


The Box

by GoldenGoddess12199



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, How Do I Tag, Katsuki Yuuri's Victor Nikiforov Posters, M/M, Makkachin Lives (Thank God), One Shot, Post-Canon, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenGoddess12199/pseuds/GoldenGoddess12199
Summary: Victor finds all of Yuuri's posters of himself, and Yuuri reacts.This is literally just something I was thinking about and had to write. It was fun.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

> I was just thinking about if this happened when I was watching the second episode instead of doing my homework. I suck at college.

It was little surprise that Yuuri had posters of Victor.

His collection started from the first time he had seen the skater on the old television in the ice skate rink.

(Just because that was the day that he had had a gay awakening doesn’t mean it had to do anything with his collection, even if it clearly did. No one had to know. Except maybe Victor. No, definitely _not _Victor.)

He had gone to the little corner store that had a rack of magazines, and there was one with an exclusive poster of Victor in it in his Free Skate costume, the one that had the half skirt for his androgynous look.

He had sheepishly walked up to the cashier and paid for it, his face bright red as the young woman behind the counter handed him his change with a very bored expression.

He scurried away as quick as he could get without looking back.

Later that night, he very carefully pulled the staples out the magazine, took the poster out, and hung it up on his wall. It was something he looked at with glee. The giddy sense of awe swirling in his chest made him give a little giggle, and his eyes started to tear up a little with an emotion he couldn’t describe.

He spent the rest of the night doing homework and studying, but periodically he would stop and stare at the newest addition to his wall. His eyes seemed drawn to the older teen, like his eyes just couldn’t stop looking at him.

When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep going over the smiling lines of Victor’s face and a small smile curling his own.

XXX

Over the next few years, he collects several more posters, many of them limited edition.

The one from the magazine had gotten ripped by accident, and the sunlight from his windows had severely faded the cheap glossy paper, so he had ended up taking it down and putting it into a box with the few other pieces of Nikiforov merchandise he owned.

(His favorite was a plush toy of Makkachin that he used to snuggle with at night until he got his very own mini-Makkachin, followed closely by a pair of limited edition pair of Nike gloves that had Victor’s signature on them. The gloves had been featured in a commercial with Victor himself wearing different sets of Nike brand name clothes.

The gloves had only been worn once, and then he had become terrified of ruining them and so put them in the box with the stuffed Makkachin.)

When he went off to college, he carefully put his oldest posters in The Box, and took only four of the newest ones with him to Detroit. It was the second hardest decision to make out of this whole trip, only behind leaving Vicchan.

Being in Detroit had been fun, especially after he met Phichit Chulanont, a skater from Thailand who quickly became his very best friend. It was to Phichit that he told his secret admiration (i.e. his giant crush) for Victor Nikiforov.

Phichit was happy for him and otherwise didn’t judge him at all, for which he was grateful.

His collection of posters certainly expanded, and the merchandise he managed to get was pretty exclusive. The concept of Black Friday was still strange, but he couldn’t argue with the amazing discount he got.

When he was in Sochi and he failed his goal on being able to stand on the same podium as Victor, his admiration (obsession) died down a little. When Victor asked him for a commemorative photo, it broke his heart a little to realize Victor didn’t even realize who his own competition was. He really must have been that bad.

So he was dragged to the banquet by Ciao Ciao, he drank champagne, and he woke up in his room with a hangover that split his skull and a desire to die in abject misery.

The next day wasn’t so bad, but his next competition was. And the one after that, too.

In fact, his whole life was going downhill, but whatever. He finished his degree and went back to Japan, to Hasetsu, where he spent time with his family and put up his posters (he limited himself to only sixteen).

(That was how many he could fit on his walls before he ran out of space.)

He helped with the inn, skated at the rink, stared at his posters, and resigned himself to being a spinster of an old man who run his parents’ inn until he died. (He was being negative, so sue him.)

And then one night, Takeshi called him, saying that his daughters did it without their parent’s permission.

“Did what?” Yuuri said into the phone.

“Didn’t you see the text I sent you?” Takeshi asked him worriedly.

“No,” Yuuri said. “I just saw you were calling. I’ll look right now, though.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the texts. There, in his message inbox, was a video of him on YouTube with the title something like _Yuuri Katsuki skates _Stammi Vicino_ from Russian star Victor Nikiforov_, and Yuuri freaked out.

He watched the video in horrified silence, his plump body moving across the ice somewhat gracefully, but his jumps were only triples instead of quads and his ass looked gigantic from that angle.

Putting the phone up to his ear, he distantly heard Takeshi apologize again, but his brain was panicking too loudly for him to hear. Minako opened his door, but he had become unaware of his surroundings to give a fuck about what she had to say at that moment.

He ended up going to bed straight after, because his poor heart couldn’t take it.

XXX

The next morning brought snow, even though it was April, and his mother asked him to go shovel the snow.

When he opened the door to the front entrance, he was immediately knocked down by a fuzzy brown mass with two giant paws on his chest.

He thought it was his own Victor at first, but no, this dog was too big. It looked suspiciously like another standard brown poodle he knew of, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

That was, of course, before his father walked by. “Sure looks like our Victor, doesn’t he? He came in with a handsome foreigner who’s in the hot springs right now, he probably Russian from the sounds of it!”

Before he even finished his sentence, Yuuri had gotten up and ran out to the baths in search of this handsome foreigner. He ended up skidding out into the open area of the hot springs and seeing the silver hair and pale skin.

For a moment, his brain and his eyes didn’t connect. There could be not absolute way that _Victor Nikiforov himself_ was at Yuuri’s family inn. But then Victor stood up in all his naked glory, and held out his arm. “Hello Yuuri! Starting today, I will be your new coach!”

The screamed ‘_what_’ that came out of Yuuri’s mouth could probably be heard from space.

For another second, his brain just stopped working. In the part of his very gay brain that was still functioning, he could only think about how very naked he was.

_Which makes sense_, he thought, _since he__’__s in a hot springs and hot springs are for bathing. Naked._

Eventually, Yuuri managed to get his act together and be polite enough to offer Victor one of the inn’s robes and get him some food, which the Russian figure skater gladly accepted. After his second bottle of sake and polite conversation, Victor fell asleep on the floor snuggling with Makkachin, and Yuuri was freaking out. He had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation whatsoever.

When Minako came and questioned him, he was still in his perpetual state of confusion like never before. When Victor ate his favorite food and called him a little piggy (it hurt his heart just enough to smart, and the posters locked away in his room lost a little bit of their luster once again), he was still confused.

But in his room later that night with Victor knocking on the door for a sleepover, confusion disappeared and panic set in. He quickly but carefully pulled his posters down one by one to make sure Victor didn’t see how much of a fanboy he really was.

After looking through them, admiring them one by one, he got down The Box, which was really more like one of those old fashioned Western suitcases, and he put the posters inside.

He put The Box pack on the top shelf of his closet and put it out of his mind for the rest of the training season.

XXX

The Box didn’t come back up until he was planning on moving to Russia with Victor to start their training. He had considered it, but decided ultimately to leave it there. He had the real thing, why would he need the posters to look at?

And so when The Box showed up with the rest of his things that his parents shipped over from Japan, he panicked a little but tried to hide it. With the moving confusion, Victor didn’t really seem to notice, and so he found a place to hide it away in one of their closets.

However, his luck was not that good. He had been in Russia for maybe two months when Victor found The Box.

Yuuri had managed to store it in the closet by the front door, planning on telling Victor that it was extra winter gear if he asked, but Victor beat him to it.

He had been at the grocery store that afternoon, struggling to read the labels and making him stay later than he meant to. He had taken the bus home with some delay, but had finally got himself into their apartment and dropped off the groceries in the kitchen. The apartment was suspiciously quiet, so he called out to Victor, who called back and told him that he was in the bedroom.

When he turned the corner, he was totally unprepared.

Victor had all of his posters spread out on the floor, sitting around him in a semicircle. Yuuri froze, his brain short-circuiting and his mouth open just slightly.

Victor noticed him come in and beamed up at him. “Yuuri, look what I found! I think they might be yours, because I don’t remember having this many pictures of myself.”

But Yuuri didn’t say anything, Victor’s smile started to droop a little. “Yuuri?” He asked.

“You weren’t supposed to find those,” the Japanese man whispered. Victor noticed a little too late how Yuuri’s body started to shake and how his breathing was erratic, and knew that he was already starting his panic attack.

Yuuri distantly heard Victor say his name, but he didn’t really hear him. All he could think was _why, why did he find them, why did he find them, why does _Victor_ have his posters, why, why, wHY, WHY, WHY, WHY_-

He was drawn out of his panic by Victor pulling him in for a hug, his arms holding him tight as his hands ran soothing lines down his back and the baritone of his voice echoed through his chest into Yuuri’s body and his mind.

They were comforting, just Victor telling him again and again that he was going to be okay. He finally took a deep breath and pulled Victor down with him to sit on the floor, his go-to way to deal with stressful things.

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, concerned.

“I’m okay now, Victor. Sorry.” Yuuri told him, a little embarrassed.

“It’s alright, Yuuri. Why caused you to panic?” His boyfriend asked. Oh what indeed.

When Yuuri remained silent, Victor pressed on. “Is it because of the posters?” He asked gently. When Yuuri only nodded, Victor pulled him in for another hug.

“Why?”

“They’re… embarrassing. I put them away that first night you showed up to the inn because I didn’t want you to see them. And now you’re looking at them.”

Victor stiffened a little against him, but he didn’t pull away. “Will you tell me about why you have them?” He asked quietly. After several moments of thinking, Yuuri nodded.

He slowly sat down with Victor in the center of the posters, and grabbed the oldest, the first he had ever gotten, and told him about each one.

In a way, he laid bare a large part of his soul. This was showing how big of a fan Yuuri was of Victor, how much he thought Victor was like a god in his eyes at times.

Victor also seemed to understand why Yuuri thought this was embarrassing, and he could agree to some extent. He didn’t realize how much Yuuri idolized him before they had officially met, so he instead told stories about each different point in his life from each poster.

Him on a throne? Oh, he had tripped and fallen the day before and twisted his ankle, so he couldn’t stand on it without crutches for a week. They had put him in a chair instead, and told him to pretend it was a throne.

When he was on a train? He didn’t know what to do, and so he had stood there with his arm in the air like it was around a person and made himself seem cool.

Him with Makkachin with his long hair? Well, who doesn’t love Makkachin? He had just gotten the puppy and refused to go anywhere without him for a straight month. He had even taken him to the grocery store with his parents.

And in between was a bunch of silly or sad or happy stories about him when Yuuri wasn’t there.

By the end of the night, Yuuri didn’t care that Victor had found The Box. Well, he cared, but it was much less embarrassing now. Each story Victor told him made him relax, made him laugh and cry a little, and it made him realize just how human Victor was too. He went to bed happy that night…

… only to find all of his posters up on the walls in their apartment the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:
> 
> When Yuuri was about to pull down the nearest poster, he nearly fainted when he saw the dark sharpie written in the corner. There, in his fiance's messy handwriting, was his signature, both in Russian and English. 
> 
> He had to sit down on the floor he was in such a daze, and Victor found him there almost an hour later. 
> 
> "What is it, lyubov moya?" He asked, concerned. 
> 
> "You signed your name, Vitya." Yuuri said faintly. "On my posters. Of you. That I've had since before I met you." Was there supposed to be bright spots on his vision? 
> 
> "Of course I did, my Yuuri! It was the least I could do for my pretty fiance having pictures of me. I don't think I realized how big of a fan you were of me, but you don't have to worry!" His bright smile made Yuuri calm and worried at the same time. "I bought all the posters I could of you and you can just sign them for me!'
> 
> His enthusiasm killed the Japanese skater. Posters of Yuuri? He was going to die, he just knew it, and Victor was going to be the one to kill him. Or his heart. Or his anxiety. But probably Victor.
> 
> "Right," he said faintly. 
> 
> Dead.


End file.
